Fascinations
by strangled lies
Summary: Harry thinks of the rain on a spring night, Draco, and all they have in common. Slash, slight angst, and I'm quite confident on this piece! R&R, thanks!


** Title - Fascinations.**

**Author - Meh, Savannah Gordon.****  
**** Inspiration - there was this huge - and i mean **_huge_** - rainstorm here in NY a week or so ago at like, 9.00 PM, so i went outside and wrote. and heres what happened.**  
** Rating - PG-13, Mid-R, to be safe, yeh?**  
** Pairing - Anyone you like - I wrote it thinking of an OTP I once ( and may still have) had, and as not to spoil your mind while reading this, you can check my user info on my livejournal (check my userinfo) Colorbars indicating my OTP are there**  
** Summary - **_"You bite lightly at the thinly sweat lined skin on my own neck, and I know that there will be no soft caresses tonight, with a possible limit of need pulls."__  
_**Warning - My first semi-drabble, dont go easy on me. at all. im gonna regret that, arent i? Oh yeah, and its slash. But I think - **_hope_** - you knew that. **  
  
I've always been fascinated with the rain. The way it can come and go within seconds, stopping and starting all the time. It can be turbulent or calm; quick paced or slow. It can be anything, anytime, and you never have control.

You're placing quiet, tender kisses on my lips, and I know I look thoroughly flourished right now. You put your hands on my neck, your lips moving down my jawline and finding your way back to me, meeting halfway as I lean in towards you.

My hands weave through your hair, silk through my fingers. Your kisses are more heated, more passionate, and more revealing. Within five minutes, I'm breathless and beneath you on my - _our_ bed.

First there's rain, of course. Then, I believe, comes lightning. They taught us that lightning was too many negative and positive neutrons - or something like that - in the same spot, charging off one another, I dunno. I _do_ know that it strikes the night air, breaking it in two and illuminating it to an incandescent white. I see things that are overlooked otherwise during thunder, if it be only for a moment.

You're still strong, kissing me long and hard at every moment. I pull away and press my head in-between your shoulder and your neck, savoring the temporary intimacy. I pull back gently and press my own bruised lips on yours, show having expected you to immediately push me back onto the bed again, hands fumbling with my jeans.

I want you to be gentle and slow tonight, just like our first night. You bite lightly at the thinly sweat lined skin on my own neck, and I know that there will be no soft caresses tonight, with a possible limit of need pulls.

Thunder always overpowers everything else. The sounds of the rain are lost in the rumble that comes from god knows where and ends up over me. _Usually_ over me. It doesn't usually last long, but the electricity that comes from the thunder can be more obtrusive, in an ironically needed sort of way, than the lightning. But it's all relative.

It's when you're this close to me - within me, or with me, period - that I feel the endless possibilities you possess. You keep your eyes closed, but everytime they open, I feel their power. You can see right through me; you can make me whole, or break me apart. You, and you eyes, themselves, can be silent, or speak passions of every nothing ever known.

That side of you is rare, and is gone as quick as it has come.

They never told us which came first, the lightning or the thunder. I would stay up for nights during rain storms and try to figure it out. When I finally did, I wasn't surprised, just relieved to have solid fact about one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed.

yet it's when all of the elements collide that I'm frightened and comforted at the same time. Everything is different. The rain pours harder. The thunder begins far off, comes to hover above you, and then move on again. The prolonged lightning comes back for more, silently at first. And the wind remains standing, fighting to push it all away, never knowing whether it will do damage or good.

When the rain trickles, the thunder rumbles, the lightning crashes, and the wind plays peacemaker that I know all is well.

Neither of us are clean anymore, in all aspects of the word. Yet we're still in motion, reverently exchanging kisses. Maybe I can make the ending count, yeah? I pull away, my eyes meet your and I turn the tables.

I want to speak, but you place your lips less than a millimeter away from mine. Your breath slides right off my skin, but I want more. You move closer, filling the offending gap with yourself - your own aura.

That's all it ever takes for me to give in to the smooth velvet behind your pink lips.

I pull away, maybe a minute later, lingering for a moment on your bottom lips, my eyes looking down at our interlocked mouths, then dropping to our hands, also grasping at eachother. These things - these connections - are what make it beautiful. The way we could both stay there forever and be content. I raise my eyes to bore into yours, which are still closed in suspected ecstasy.

Things slow down again, and we share more, before you let a small moan escape into my mouth. That electrifying feel of before is back, and hands are suddenly everywhere.

I'll not let that be for long. I grab hold of _your_ hands and bring them together, resting on my heart. I see your eyes twitch beneath their lids, and I kiss each separately. I lead you to the same position we always rest together in. My head is on your chest and I can hear your heartbeat, loud and undisguised. I like it that way. My feet barely dangle off the edge of the bed, and your hands play with my hair, fingertips stroking my scalp. I lean into the touch and breathe you in deeply.

You bend close to me and whisper, "I love you," your accent kicking in and reminding me one of the many reasons I love you, before kissing me once again and reaching for the quilt cover to keep us warm on this chilly spring night.

The 'afters' of any storm are always wonderful, in many ways. The after_math_, after_smell_, after_feel_; afterwards. 

All that remains now is the drizzling rain, forever taping on my window. Thunder whisper through the trees well into the night, but it never causes problems

You're like this often. In the morning, and all during the day, we'll constantly tell each other we love one another. We'll share glances and steal kisses, but I won't worry about that now. 

Now, I'm in your arms. Now, my breathing is paced with your heart.

I move closer to you, shifting only a bit. you're arms tighten around me, instinctively.

Now, all is well.

I've always been fascinated with the rain. 


End file.
